


Don't Wait For Tomorrow's Daylight

by social_reject



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9324113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/social_reject/pseuds/social_reject
Summary: The light cascaded down from a lone streetlamp, shadows playing against the light and colors swirling into each other from the art piece. Calum's hands itched to take a photo, his fingers unfurling and hands almost unconsciously reaching for his camera, the device hanging heavy around his neck. He grabbed the camera, quickly turned it on and before he even knew it had snapped a photo, the flash contrastly blinding against the shadowed walls surrounding  them. The person turned to slowly face Calum who could already feel the blush on his face, creeping from his cheeks down his neck, his whole body ablaze with embarrassment.Calum is a down on his luck photographer who may have found a new inspiration in Ashton.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [senioritastyles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/senioritastyles/gifts).



Calum stumbled his way down the dark sidewalk, eerie shadows cut across the asphalt from the street lights, his footsteps unsteady and dipping from the edge of the curb to the road below. He walked along unevenly, another day of defeat hanging over his head, his portfolio weighing heavily in his backpack and camera slung around his neck. His whole body felt deflated, as if all his purpose and strength reserved for trying had been crushed out of him. He had just spent another day unsuccessfully showing his portfolio to various art exhibits. As his luck would have it, he didn't have any. He'd wandered around the streets with his camera at the ready, hoping a burst of inspiration would strike through him, or at the very least, he could manage to take a photo that wasn't ‘overdone’. 

 

He had wandered for so long it was nearly midnight by the time he came to his senses, the night air creeping on his chilled skin, a sharp reminder rattling his bones. The temperature had dipped and Calum had hastily zipped up his coat, wrangling his camera around past the zipper. He found himself on a lone street, he knew it was a dead end of a street and soon he would have to turn around but he kept moving forward, simply not wanting to stop. He feared that if he stopped momentarily, he would stop totally. 

 

Calum let out a long held breath, the heat dancing through the air frivolously. He mumbled to himself, words all mangled into each other, his attitude towards the day and his work plummeting. He didn't often feel sorry for himself, but he took a moment in his lone despair to feel what needed to be felt. He took another deep breath in an attempt to clear his mind. His hands fidgeted with the lens of his camera, unsurely hovering over the technology before finally dropping to his sides, fists clenched as he walked on. 

 

He kept his pace slow and staggered, his feet in no rush, his mind had already been running races all afternoon- exhausting him to the point of languid movement. He knew the dead end was approaching, nothing but the edge of a curb and a brick wall set ahead. He questioned if he should turn around in the moment but something just up ahead caught his eye and kept him moving. A person was at the edge of the street, bent over on the tar, their body's shadow hiding whatever they were doing. 

 

Calum approached them slowly and quietly, his footsteps ghostly and small. It may have been foolish to approach a stranger in the dead of the night but Calum kept on, his curiosity too much to bear. As he neared he could see art supplies scattered about the sidewalk and in the hand of the hidden person. Calum looked at the ground, a half finished piece of art gracing the usually plain road. The piece worked at being three dimensional, Calum could sense  the element that was being strived for. He stood silently at the edge, the person working on it oblivious to his presence. They turned, shifting their angle just enough for Calum to see the side of glasses perched on a nose, slipping their way down. Honey curls fell restlessly in their face, whatever medium they were working with smudged not only on their hands but their cheeks. 

 

The light cascaded down from a lone streetlamp, shadows playing against the light and colors swirling into each other from the art piece. Calum’s hands itched to take a photo, his fingers unfurling and hands almost unconsciously reaching for his camera, the device hanging heavy around his neck. He grabbed the camera, quickly turned it on and before he even knew it had snapped a photo, the flash contrastly blinding against the shadowed walls surrounding  them. The person turned to slowly face Calum who could already feel the blush on his face, creeping from his cheeks down his neck, his whole body ablaze with embarrassment. 

 

“I am so, so, so sorry, I- I shouldn't have just taken a photo-” Calum stuttered out but stopped as the stranger threw a coy smile his way. 

 

Calum could now see all of the delicate features of the man in question. He pushed his disheveled hair out of his eyes, his smile breathtaking as he stood. A jacket hung loosely on his small frame, ripped jeans and scuffed boots worn with pride as he stepped forward. 

 

“I'll delete it,” Calum quickly said, his hands fumbling with the camera. Calum quickly realized how creepy it was to have photographed a stranger as night hung over them, how his words were strained and his body felt frozen to the cement below him. 

 

“Can I at least see it before it's gone?” 

 

Calum swallowed and nodded, his stiff body melting as he obliged. He brought the picture up and moved the camera so the stranger could see it. It took everything in him to keep his hands from shaking with chilled nerves as the man peered over his shoulder and gazed at the shot. Calum also looked at the photo, the serene beauty of the shot mixed with the different shadows and colors pulled the whole thing into perspective. Calum took a moment to appreciate it, staring at the artwork captured within the photo, the half finished piece calling to him; connecting with how he felt inside. 

 

Calum knew he was half finished, that he was searching for purpose and strength to lead him to it. He was hyper aware of his reality and how it surrounded him like smoke tendrils, waiting to suffocate his trying resistance to drowning. 

 

The man breathed out, his breath mixing with the night air, like a plume of smoke against a dark backdrop. “It is a good photo. You should keep it.” 

 

Calum licked his lips unsurely, his hands fidgeting as the man walked back to his piece, materials still scattered about, the man seemingly content to finish what he started. 

 

“Are you sure?” Calum called. “I-I can delete it if you want.” 

 

The man turned back to him, all lit up under the glow of a hazy streetlamp, hands tucking into his large jacket as he smiled easily. “It's not a problem.” 

 

An air of mystery surrounded Calum as the man went back to his work, slowly and gracefully descending to his knees, reaching a large hand out for his colored chalk. Calum had no intention of running into someone and even less intention to become enraptured by them without even knowing their name. Calum stood unsurely, trying to convince himself to turn around but his body felt like cold concrete, his gaze on the stranger permanent. 

 

The man in question turned to Calum, gazing at him curiously before biting his lip. “I'm Ashton, by the way.”

 

Calum swallowed harshly, a lump in his throat not particularly the cause for his labored breathing. He mumbled out an almost incoherent introduction, his own name almost slipping his mind as all he could focus on was the beautiful stranger. Ashton was small, not in such a way that his stature could be considered small among average people, but in the sense that something about him spoke of an easy softness. His jacket was much larger than his body and to Calum his height was shorter than him, that much he could tell, but the soft sheen in his hazel eyes was illuminating and mellow. 

 

A silence intruded upon them after Calum’s shaky introduction, both caught up in staring at each other. Ashton seemed to be trying to figure Calum out, and Calum couldn't blame him for that. Calum licked his lips and fidgeted with his camera, blinking as rapidly as his heart was beating. Calum broke gazes with Ashton and swept his focus back to the art piece on the road. 

 

“What is it going to be?” Calum asked, an awkward air settling between them until Ashton laughed and stood. 

 

Ashton brushed his hands off and casually answered with a question. “Have you ever felt like you're in a free fall?” 

 

Calum thought seriously about that for a moment. His scrambled steps led him here, steps that spoke of the undeniable feeling that his life was plummeting off course and his back felt the wind of the world gracing him with gravity. He supposed he had. 

 

Calum nodded. “Now more than ever.” 

 

Ashton quirked a small and crooked smile, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they were seemingly content to slide down his nose. “That's what it's going to be. The edge of a cliff, the steady before the fall. One foot on solid ground-” he said and maneuvered his stance so one foot was on the untouched road and the other hovered over the piece unsurely. “And the other…” 

 

“Searching for solid ground?” Calum asked as Ashton let his foot fall. 

 

“Realizing that it's been there the whole time,” Ashton explained and turned back to look at Calum soberly. His eyes sparkled with meaning, sincerity held in his gaze as he continued on. “It's supposed to be a reminder that even when you feel like you're falling, something will always catch you.” 

 

Calum felt the back of his neck heat up, his hand reaching to it uncertainly as he came to understand the meaning of Ashton's work. The position Ashton had been in previously spoke to Calum, how one part of you could feel anchored to the world and the other could feel as though the anchor was what was dragging you down. Calum appreciated the hidden message within the piece, that even when it looked like the world was failing you and you were falling, it was never as grim as it seemed. 

 

“It's a beautiful message,” Calum praised. “So why hide it at a dead end street?” 

 

Ashton shrugged. “Aren't the ‘beautiful’ things in life worth searching for?” 

 

“And what about recognition? Why do you do this when no one will know it was you in the first place?” 

 

Ashton skipped a step as he pivoted and strode towards Calum. “Anonymity and art go so well together. I can pour my heart and soul into it under the cover of night and then gauge reactions as merely another person who is passing by.” 

 

Calum had never thought of his photography in that way. He'd been striving to make it a career, to make his pieces known and get his name out there. He took a metaphorical step back from it all, trying to frame his thoughts in the way that Ashton so casually spoke of his own art. 

 

Ashton must have taken Calum’s silent reflection as the end of the conversation, Calum watching as he turned back to his work and meticulously added onto it. Calum wasn't sure what it was that made him lower himself to the curb and take a seat- whether it was how enraptured he had become with his thoughts, Ashton, or seeing the completion of the piece, or a beautiful mixture of all three. Whatever it was, he sat down, content to stare in wonder and amazement as his thoughts went racing about his mind, his once fatigued state refreshed. 

 

Calum knew that Ashton was aware of his continued presence and took his silence and steady work process as having no qualms with it. Calum turned his camera back on, gazing at the surprise shot from the evening. He had set out after a continuous string of ‘failure’ hoping for something to change his luck. He knew that with every coin toss there was a fifty-fifty chance of losing. He thought that maybe his day was a loss but the night brought him much better luck. 

 

He shuffled through some of his other shots, the photos lacking emotion and dimension. It was a hard hit to have been told that his photos were ‘overdone’ but after taking a shot in the dark and coming out with such tremendous results, he was coming to cope with it. The shot of Ashton so intently bent over his work, anonymity hiding the distinguishable features of his face but focusing instead on the work in progress below left Calum yearning to know more, to create more. 

 

Calum shuffled his feet as he outstretched his legs, placing one over the other as his shoulders hunched and he let the camera gently fall into his lap. He wanted to take a million more shots of Ashton and his process, especially as the soft pink of dawn ascended its way into the cool skyline. Calum wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there when Ashton finally wrapped up his work, pushing himself up from the tar and to his feet, fiddling with the scattered supplies. 

 

Calum rose too, the piece coming into complete perspective for him, the angles and colors and emotion of the work shining against the minuscule light of a new day. Calum stood at the edge of the piece, toeing the line of work and looking down, the wind actually at his back but gravity was weightless. He heard Ashton chuckle from across him. 

 

“Turned out okay then, huh?” He asked, standing with his back pressed to the brick wall behind him, on the other edge. 

 

Calum wordlessly nodded and assumed the position Ashton had previously taken, one foot on solid ground and the other hovering, knowing that the world was still beneath him- spinning on uninterrupted, ready to cushion the fall. He unconsciously gripped at his camera once more, the device left on from his last shuffle through the photos, he snapped a quick picture from a more bird's eye view, hoping Ashton was okay with it. 

 

As the flash went off and lit up the space between them Ashton huffed out a breath. “You know, I have always been the artist, I was never part of the art piece.” 

 

Calum swallowed down the urge to attempt to  _ flirt  _ with Ashton, thought of him being a masterpiece floating through his mind. He shut them down and merely blinked back at Ashton. “You  _ are  _ a part of the art, without you, it simply wouldn't exist.” 

 

Ashton smiled as he neared Calum, rounding his footsteps to leave the piece undisturbed. He came face to face with him, his grin lighting up the dull glow around them. 

 

“I want a print of that photo,” Ashton said quietly, his whisper laced with a million different colors. 

 

Calum promised to get him a print and Ashton kissed his cheek quickly, leaving Calum heated and desiring more, even inquiring as to how he'd give Ashton the print. Ashton gave him his number and calum promised to be in touch, Ashton beaming at him as he gathered up the last of his things and bid Calum goodbye. Calum watched him walk away, chancing one last snapshot of Ashton's back, stealthily taking the photo, thinking that maybe he found his new muse. 


End file.
